


Matter of Respect, A

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 08:32:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11332185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	Matter of Respect, A

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

A Matter of Respect By Kassandra

SlashX: 7 June 1998  
Archive/X: 12 July 1998

* * *

A Matter of Respect  
By Kassandra ()

The big hands held him still. "Don't turn around."

Krycek stood still, barely breathing. His heart hammered against his ribs. He hadn't expected to be caught going through his colleague's car. 

"Your problem, Krycek, is that you need to respect authority."

"Who's going to teach me?" The words escaped before his brain could shut his mouth down.

The hands tightened. "I suppose I will." A handcuff snicked closed over one of his wrists, the other arm was yanked back and likewise restrained.

Christ, was the bastard going to kill him? "Look," he said and suddenly was turned face to face with the man they called X.

"You're a cocky little bastard, aren't you?" Quick flash of white teeth and X leaned in close.

Too close. He felt the heat of the other man's body and shivered, his own flesh responding.

"I wonder how cocky you are?" 

Soft voice and a big hand gripped him between the legs, making him gasp. Revealing his body's response.

"Very cocky." X's voice was deep, velvety, lacking the usual harshness. 

He bit back a moan as the hand pressed against his thickening flesh. Forced his hips to remain still, not to arch forward in response.

X leaned forward further, he could feel warm breath on his cheek, shivered again. "Definitely in need of a lesson, Krycek." Still softly. Voice a seduction in itself, never mind what the hand was doing to him.

His brain seemed to have liquefied. He couldn't remember why he'd come here in the first place. Something about a suspicion that the man was a traitor.

Something he didn't care about. At least not at this particular moment.

One hand moved from his upper arm to slide under his leather jacket. Pinched a nipple through the thin cotton of his t-shirt. An electric jolt traveled from his nipple to his cock, he was so hard it hurt, trapped painfully beneath denim.

He leaned toward X, his body yearning wordlessly, he couldn't remember what he was doing, what he'd come to the garage to do.

The other nipple flared to life between thumb and forefinger and he did moan, kept the sound in his throat, but X leaned toward him, mouth brushing against his, tongue stroking through his already parted lips.

He moaned again, opened his mouth and was pulled hard against the broader body.

X sucked on his tongue, bit his lips gently and just as abruptly, pushed him away.

He nearly fell down, swayed and fell back against the car, rapping his head on the edge of the roof.

"Definitely time for a lesson," X told him, breathing raggedly. "Turn around, put your face on the seat."

He was so far gone that he ignored the faint sense of alarm that roused. Ducked his head, put his face on the plush fabric of the driver's seat. Those hands....fuck, those hands stroked his ass, pressing the seam of his jeans into the cleft. Stroked down between his legs and squeezed gently. 

He arched up into it, pressing his face down harder. Inhaled the scent of the man who usually sat there. The hands retreated, stroked over his hips, around to his crotch. Stroked hard. Moved to his waist and unbuckled his belt. Pulled it free.

He whimpered into the fabric, biting his lip. Too slow, goddammit, do it, do it....he silently begged, felt fingers at his waist again, undoing the top button. 

Lowering the zipper. 

He breathed in, shivering, gasped when hands yanked his jeans down roughly. Soft laughter. 

"No underwear? Didn't your mama teach you any better, Krycek?"

A blunt finger stroked down the cleft between his buttocks. Probed roughly at the puckered ring of muscle, withdrew and returned, slick with saliva.

He whimpered again. Rubbed his face on the car seat, inhaling. Wanting. Needing more.

The finger withdrew again. 

"Business before pleasure," X murmured regretfully. Black velvet voice. Dangerous. Freighted with threat and desire in a way that made him want desperately.

He felt X draw back. Caught his breath to protest, to beg if necessary. His pulse hammered in his ears, he started to lift his head......the crack of the belt and the burn on his ass made him jump, made him moan.

Again. Again. He was melting, turning to something molten, and his cock rode high against his belly, aching with need, his balls tightened with each stroke of leather across his skin.

Oh, Christ, he was burning, on fire, and each crack of his own belt stoked the flames higher.

Hotter and higher and hotter and he was going to scream soon. 

Fabric rustled, the faint sound of a zipper. And then cool hands cooled the heat on his skin. "Respect, Krycek." A husky whisper. 

"Please," he moaned and felt that intrusive finger again. More saliva and another finger and then, before he could melt into that, something significantly thicker than fingers.

Something thick and brutal that pushed into him roughly, tearing a cry from him, he muffled it in the fabric of the seat, nearly swooned from the feel of being opened and spread and taken.

Felt the soft weight of X's balls against him and dragged air into his lungs.

"Respect, Krycek." In his ear, warm breath making him shiver, warm tongue stroking his earlobe, and X's weight on his back.

He bucked back, X thrust forward, he groaned and wished his hands were free, his cock throbbed painfully, he was so close to the edge already....

"Respect for your seniors, Krycek." X's thickness drew back, leaving him empty, slammed into him again and he muffled another cry.

Slow at first, then faster, and X grabbed the hair on the back of his head, thrust brutally, making him dance on the end of X's cock.

He danced, Christ, yes, he did, moving in rhythm that had its own kind of grace, panting with it, sweating.....his nipples were hard against the soft cotton of his shirt, he tried to rub himself on the edge of the seat, but X's hand was inexorable, guiding him as directed.

And suddenly, he was pulled back, pulled away from the car, hanging in midair, and X's other hand closed firmly around his cock, gripping it almost painfully hard.

"If you ever show me disrespect again, Krycek," a rough whisper, "I'll tear this off and stuff it down your throat."

Fine, fine, whatever. "Please." Begging without shame. Still spitted on X's cock, his own held back from orgasm. "Please." 

One more brutal thrust, angled upward and forward and X stripped his cock hard, pushing him over the precipice. He danced again, felt his muscles clench on that thickness, heard himself making noises he'd regret later. Felt his cock engorge further, felt himself begin to spurt, hot and hard and more of pleasure/pain than he'd ever dreamt of feeling.

Imagined he could feel X's cock doing the same, inside him. Felt the heat and cried out, helpless to hold it back, to smother it. So good, so real, so fucking hot......and his pulse began to slow. 

X still held his hair. His body began to register it as painful. 

"Hey," he tried to say, it came out as little more than a croak. 

And X pulled out, let go of him. 

He fell to his knees, jeans still down around his ankles, scraped skin down to blood and cursed under his breath. His ass burning with the sudden withdrawal.

And the belt made him jump again, lightly this time, on skin that would show signs of bruising.

"Respect." The deep voice was husky. A little breathless.

It stilled the curse on his tongue. Gathering himself up, he tugged his jeans back, tucked himself in carefully.

Feeling the slickness between his buttocks. 

"I hope you've learned your lesson." X regarded him impassively.

He stared back. The man was stone. But *he* was quicksilver. "I won't forget," he told X ironically.

"Good." Turning, X got into the car, pulled the door shut. 

The engine purred to life. The lights came on. 

Standing in the dark garage, he watched as the car drove down the ramp. "Oh, no, I certainly won't forget," he whispered and melted back into the night.

Finis


End file.
